Don't Touch Her
by Rekino
Summary: They dared him. Touch one of their own again and they’d kill him. They would kill anyone who touched her, the pride and youngest of their group. No one messed with Sarugaki Hiyori unless they wished to die. Touch one of theirs and feel the burn. That was


**Title:** Don't Touch Her

**Author:** Rekino  
**Character/Pairing/Group:** Hirako Shinji/Sarugaki Hiyori  
**Rating:** PG-13 (because of Hiyori's foul mouth and blood)

**Notes:** Spoilers for manga 180+. A take on what happened during and after chapter 216.

_They dared him. Touch one of their own again and they'd kill him. How dare he injure one of theirs? The vaizards' protectiveness is explained; the strong bond of a band of rogues – of comrades, friends – of family. They would kill anyone who touched her, the pride and youngest of their group. No one messed with Sarugaki Hiyori unless they wished to die. Touch one of theirs and feel the burn. That was the vaizards' only rule. _

He had watched her. Eyed her every move intimately to guarantee she wasn't going to kill Ichigo. Why would she when their only goal was to rip the hollow out of him and to see if he held the competence to join them? But he knew her. Knew how she tended to go overboard and knew how dangerous she could become if she wasn't supervised.

He cocked his head to one side, noticing how she was putting only the most miniscule of efforts in each attack she swung at Ichigo; merely bringing about her hollow mask for a spiritual boost and as a warning to the shinigami. Probably in an attempt to scare the lad as well, Shinji mused, continuing to watch the battle that took place above him.

Hiyori continued to attack wildly, in an effort to throw the teenager she fought against off-balance with her erratic and spontaneous movements. Something that Shinji knew must have been hard for the shinigami. As her movements were always hard to read – due to the fact that she almost never attacked in the same way, preferring to come about in a random and unpredictable manner that would bring about her victory.

She swung her blade in a downwards arc, watching the blood spurt from Ichigo's wound, eyes tainted, splashed with black – the familiar eyes of a hollow.

But things had not gone the way she had obviously desired. She had wished to see him fall, the grasp of his defeat so incredibly close to her hands. But it was not so. From her attack stemmed darkness and – possibly – her death. She never anticipated the hollow within him to suddenly arrive like he did, his entrance startling her as well as that terrifying scream that left his lips, perhaps as a prelude to the true battle that had but only begun.

Its scream generated confusion amongst the vaizards. All of whom had not expected such darkness from Ichigo's hollow; the empty screech, bloodcurdling and chilling to their bones, nothing but sheer terror amidst it. The mask was set on his face, horrible and terrible. Ichigo's eyes now tainted like the dark ones and blood marring his skin, streaming from his forehead to his neck. Unexpectedly, he lunged at Hiyori and she was taken by surprise.

This was truly unforeseen, Shinji thought, rather impressed at the sight of Ichigo's hollow mask. Yet, he disliked its sudden dive for Hiyori; Shinji carefully tapping a long tapered finger against the hilt of his blade in distaste, waiting to see what Ichigo had in store for them, for Hiyori.

His fellow vaizards watched on with surprise, faces of frozen concern for their youngest member and each unable to react when Ichigo's hand came to grasp upon her small neck, crushing the windpipe he knew was there.

This was getting bad… Shinji clucked his tongue against his shark-like teeth impatiently, desperately wanting to move, to save Hiyori, himself (though his mind fiercely protested against this). But he didn't move; he couldn't move. He knew she'd hate him if he did, if he dared to interrupt her battle, her fight. So he didn't even flinch in the least when nails of talons came to grip at her neck and applied pressure there, assuredly painfully constricting. Though the impatience within him rose, the worry within him conflicting with his ability to dictate leadership and to instill control – he maintained his silent façade, rather simply watching and waiting, hoping that she'd come out alright.

Shinji could feel the burning of ones eyes in the back of his neck and he knew who it was coming from. The only person who dared to read a book during such a battle when most had their eyes fixated on every action that occurred above them. He ignored the sensation that streamed across his nape and continued to concentrate on the fight, watching as the woman behind him – watched him.

Hiyori couldn't move. The sheer strength of the hollow was infinite, slamming her body – as they whistled across the air – into a wall and his fingers crushing her neck, constricting, slowly… slowly and painfully cutting off the circulation to her throat. Her mouth came to open in a silent scream, to blindly gasp for air, the beginnings her death about and yet, all Shinji could do was stand and watch.

Hiyori… his eyes narrowed darkly. He was desperately waiting for her to act but it seemed as if she had finally reached her limit. Her usually potent strength incapacitated with her lack of breath. The control of her hollow slammed down into the confines of her soul safely; not even truly setting foot in this battle. Ichigo had no idea how lucky he was. No idea.

The ink began to run out of her eyes and Shinji knew that she wouldn't be able to throw the rogue teenager off, if the strength of her hollow within had – as Shinji suspected – already dislodged from her soul. He turned to watch the others, fists clenched into tight balls as they desperately wished to help her and with a tiny nod, Shinji gave them his permission. Before Hiyori's windpipe could be crushed, her death finalized, Ichigo was slammed into the ground, seven vaizards holding their blades to his neck and daring him to move.

They were insulted to see him touch one of their own. Disgusted that such a weak-willed man had managed to throw off their strongest-willed fighter. Amazed to see that i he /i – the pathetic rogue – had almost killed one of theirs (the child of the group they each treasured impossibly) and they dared him to move, ready and each easily capable of decapitating his head if he even dared to even flinch.

Hirako Shinji who had casually stood and watched the battle was silent, blade positioned to Ichigo's eye. Inside, he berated himself for letting the battle drag itself on for as long as it had, even though he was fully capable of ending it if he chose. He hoped that Hiyori could forgive him; he hoped he could forgive himself for his mistake.

With the use of his palm he thrust his unsheathed blade into Ichigo's mask, shattering the item of control and letting the hollow vanish within the shinigami.

"…That's enough," he said, rising with ease and turning to gaze upon his fallen comrade's body that remained slumped against a column. He watched her placidly, tempted – incredibly so – to assist her, to assure that she was alright, but he kept his place. He needed to set an example. "Got any complaints, Hiyori?"

Sarugaki Hiyori's expression of fear was apparent, the tremble in her slight body seen only from up-close, the tears burning her eyes. She didn't respond. She was too shaken, too ashamed. How could she lose against such a guy! How could she? Burning warmth entered her; the sight of her comrades… her friends… her family protecting her had left her in a confusing balance of emotions; torn between shame, shock and happiness. She was left silent. The silence spoke for her.

Shinji's voice came coldly, cutting through the tense atmosphere as he turned to eye the clear-headed shinigami on the floor – his fellow vaizards getting off once they were assured he was no threat but still wary of the unpredictable man and still disgusted at his futile attempt at murder, "You should get it by now, too, Ichigo." His annoyance at Ichigo and his actions was apparent. "The hollow inside you isn't something that can be suppressed by your mind or body."

Shinji turned to face him completely, a hand tucked into his pocket and sword slung over shoulder. "You've done it now though. The only way to push down a hollow… is by crushing it down into the very core of your soul."

He looked away with a slight frown, tempted to land his gaze on Hiyori but knew better than to move. "We'll only teach you how to control it… if you swear to us you will join us and you'll never try such a thing again. Got it? Until then, go home – we have no place for you here." He didn't wait for Ichigo's reply, rather leaving the man there to do whatever he wanted in all his pathetic-ness. Even Shinji was less than impressed with the way Ichigo had lost control so easily.

… Had he made a mistake with his choice? Had he placed such unwarranted faith within the shinigami?

The vaizards said nothing. They had already flocked to Hiyori's aid. One of the females; the one with the goggles was crouching down; trying to make sure that Hiyori was alright. The others surrounded her, providing Hiyori comfort with their protective reiatsu and their silent promises that they were there; their warmth merging with hers and causing her erratic heartbeat to still and maintain a normal pace.

"Hiyorin, are you alright?" the female asked, eyes shining of unabashed worry and lips pinched in silent concern as Hacchi moved in closer, patting Hiyori's shoulder with an abnormally large hand.

"Hiyori-kun?" he whispered.

For someone so boisterous, so strong and loud, she was truly fragile and they all knew this. There was no shame in their eyes, no shame held for her, nothing but respect within their hearts at the sight of their youngest member ceasing her tremble of fear and whispering, voice cracking slightly as she did so: "I thought I told you to buff up the shields, Hacchi."

Everyone blinked, her sentence having met with silence before hearty laughter broke out through the group.

"That's our Hiyori!" said one, wide grin splitting his face, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes before each made their own comment, impressed with the little one's courage.

Shinji wasn't disappointed, neither ashamed of Hiyori in the least. If anything, he was proud of her – how she had managed to hold her own against such a terrifying opponent who had clearly gone rogue on her. And Shinji knew that if she gone the same, she would have easily finished him in a matter of seconds.

Hiyori didn't ask for help, didn't call for anyone to aid her during her battle and some might say that her pride would be her downfall, yet everyone knew better. Shinji was pleased that she had not bled however. No matter how hard Ichigo had tried to choke her, to cut off her breathing, he hadn't caused her to bleed. Not even a single drop of blood. If he had, Shinji's blade would have been tainted with Ichigo's own blood – Ichigo's decapitated head on the floor and the rest of the vaizards gazing upon his fallen body. But he had been lucky, tremendously lucky that everyone had stepped in before things had gotten rough, before Hiyori could have been seriously wounded. If Hiyori's untouched body was marred with even a single scar, with even a single drop of blood, he would pay a thousand fold for his crime. This was something the vaizards would guarantee.

The woman with the glasses moved forward amidst the laughter, the friendly pats on the back that had begun amongst the group and moved to face Shinji. She barred Shinji's path and gestured upon him coldly, just as he had expected her to.

"He almost killed her," she said, voice barely audible amidst the familiar laughter that rung throughout her family and echoed throughout the warehouse. She looked down upon Ichigo, eyes of repulsion at the one who had almost killed Hiyori. "You bring one who threatens one of our own, Shinji – I question your usually impeccable leadership."

Shinji did not answer immediately, understanding the frequently-silent woman's concern and knowing what she meant by her question. Though she was the most silent one amongst the group, she was like their mother, holding fierce protectiveness for each of the members and he admired her personality at this moment that shone furiously. "He will bring us victory in the war," he echoed easily in response to her question.

She disliked his tone that bore no rancor. No emotion whatsoever in his voice. "How can you be so sure?" She bothered him for answers. "He has just attempted to erase one of ours. And you dare stand up for him, Shinji? What makes you put such faith in him that you would overlook what has happened to someone that i you /i care most for?"

She had hit a mark. She had brought Hiyori into the subject. But he couldn't blame her. Not after what had happened. It had left him questioning his own leadership. And he knew what would happen, knew that if anything happened to Hiyori he would be held accountable.

They trusted Shinji's guidance; they had placed their faith within him, their lives in his hands but if he could not even protect the one he loved, then their judgment would have been ill-placed. And they would abandon their cause, seeking justice by their own means. One by one they would leave. Hiyori was the main reason they were bound together; their urge to protect one so frail binding them to the same faith. And whilst she breathed, they would watch her, protecting her like the family they were. Such searing loyalty and love was something that the shinigami would never know, only having been found for those tainted. Only for the vaizards.

"I have faith in him. He is our one chance for victory and Hiyori's role in my life will never change. We both know that. So don't use her as an excuse."

Her lips were drawn in a thin line, pursed into silence as she took in his words, skin pale against what little light that streamed through the cracks of the windows. She turned around, seemingly satisfied with his answer, braids whipping behind as she warned, "If she is ever put in danger again, if i any /i of them are ever put in danger, I will have your head Shinji." Her skirt fluttered in the wind as she disappeared, perhaps to return to her book, Shinji was unsure.

She sure was a strange one... but he couldn't blame her.

With her disappearance, Shinji muttered to himself, voice of dripping disappointment, "If I ever put her in danger again… I'd gladly let you." He paused for a second; eyes of usual pleasantness disappearing fully to be replaced with eyes of caution when he turned to gaze upon Ichigo darkly who hadn't moved in the slightest.

"If you I ever /i touch Hiyori again…" Shinji moved in closer, crouching down, blade slamming itself and embedding deep within the ground – a cold warning, as he spoke – nothing but conviction in his voice, "I will kill you myself," he promised Ichigo, watching the wide-eyed response from the man before he turned away, pulling his blade out of the ground to rejoin his family that continued to laugh and Hiyori's voice that had become high-pitched when she screamed:

"NO! I don't want an ice pack! What am I four! Come on Hacchi!"

Shinji was satisfied that Ichigo had received his message: i Touch one of our own again and burn. Not even the fires of hell can save you from us. /i 

It was that simple. He only hoped that for Ichigo's own sake, he would heed it.

Shinji's eyes took that familiar sheen, glinting mischievously and body ready for the abuse that he was certain Hiyori would instigate upon him when he reached her.

The message had been sent and the healing process had already begun.

It was time to rejoin the vaizard flock.

It was time to see just how well his future bride was doing.

The End.

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End file.
